


What Was Unsaid [The Apparition remix]

by hunters_retreat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ghost Posession, Haunting, Incest, M/M, Remix, ghost POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-21
Updated: 2010-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-05 16:43:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5382773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunters_retreat/pseuds/hunters_retreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He watched as the playbook was given away, watched as the tall, calm one took the script and weighed it in his hand. There was a thin smile on his lips as he accepted the part and it looked a little like his own already.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Was Unsaid [The Apparition remix]

**Author's Note:**

> Kamikaze Remix, so this is a retelling of [The Lies Closest to the Truth are the Easiest to Tell ](http://community.livejournal.com/pixietales/1002.html)by wenchpixie

 

He felt the pull as soon as they walked in the door, tall and strong and something dark and dangerous that was completely at odds with the soft doe eyes of the tall one and the disarming charm of the other.  Darkness couldn't hide from darkness though.

He wanted to creep out from his hiding place, from the edges of shadow and look closer but he couldn't.  He knew his part.  He'd played it to perfection for so long that none who took it after were untouched.  So instead of touching he watched and waited.  They gave names that didn't match, excuses that didn't explain, and touched and felt like something they weren't but were.  Brothers, he knew.  The rest, he could feel it from the one, feel the darkness and longing, feel the always on edge fear of discovery and the horror of abandonment.  The other was calmer inside.  Need was dark for him, but it was smoke and mirrors, always something too shallow, some illusion he couldn't breach.  Oh... the things he would teach them.

He watched as the playbook was given away, watched as the tall, calm one took the script and weighed it in his hand.  There was a thin smile on his lips as he accepted the part and it looked a little like his own already.  

"Don't worry Princess.  I'm sure this will fit in your freaky brain just fine."  

Dean.  Dean said it.  He slapped a hand on his brother's shoulder, Sam's shoulder and the touch elicited a shiver that Sam didn't notice, never noticed.  

Sam shrugged it off.  He wouldn't for long.  No, soon, Dean would be begging for his brother to touch him and Sam wouldn’t stop.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sam walked in, shoulders hunched and his backpack thrown across the motel room to bang on the opposite wall.  

"What the hell Sam?"  Dean demanded.

"Don't Dean."  Sam said.  There was tension in his voice.  Tension that ran deeper than normal and he knew it was almost time to strike.  The brothers were always edgy with one another and it was no wonder.  The big brother that protected and the little brother that rebelled were so tightly wound round one another it was hard sometimes to tell the difference between what one felt.  Their emotions bled on one another like the stinging cuts of flesh.  

"We're you that bad?"  Dean taunted and for a moment he thought it would be enough, enough to make Sam reach out and touch, to take, to make him beg.  

Sam shook himself and sighed.  "Yes."  The words were dragged out as he took a seat at the table beside his brother.  "So, tell me you found something on this case."

"Well, Becky was right about this.  Definitely our kind of case.  The local history wasn't too helpful, but when I got talking to one of the old bitties at the library, it all came out.  We know that Beacon Falls has had trouble with the last two leads in this show."

"Yeah.  Becky said both started acting like their character and had to be put in a psych ward."

"Exactly.  Turns out this happens every time the play is performed here.  It's a bad luck charm around here.  They're not even supposed to mention the show backstage."

"Like MacBeth."

"What?"

"You can't mention... whatever."

Dean stared at him for a minute and then looked back at the computer.  "So the story goes, the guy who wrote the play actually wrote it for himself.  Turns out he had a thing for one of the town actresses and decided to put on the play to win her affections.  It backfired, of course.  She made a public display to show they weren't involved and ended up married to the director before the show even opened.  The writer then went off and killed himself."

"So an angry ghost."

"The first actor performs," Dean continued, ignoring Sam's interruption.  "But half way through the run he stops answering to his own name and they quietly have him put in the nut house.  He continued to say he was the character up until he managed to kill himself."

"Alright.  So possession by an angry spirit."

"You sure about this Sam?  I mean, I don't like the idea of you being the bait."

He watched with dark glee as the eldest put his hand on his brother's shoulder, watched the way compassion and concern were filtered so that only they shone through, so that the darker lust and need stayed buried.  Yes... oh yes this one would be his.  This was what he had been waiting for, for so very long.

"I'll be fine Dean."  His brother said with a shake of the head.  "Gonna head down to the diner and meet Teanna to run lines."

"Always knew you were a drama geek."

Sam shook his head.  "Girls love a drama geek."

Dean smirked.  "More power to you princess."

When Sam left, he followed, leaving behind the dark, guilty pleasures.  Dean was ready.  It was his Sammy that would need some work.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The girl was lovely but Sam was suffering through the lines so he barely recognized it.  He wasn't sure Sam would have anyway.  His life was wrapped up on the road now, no one but his brother to worry for, to care for, and a constant need to slip out of his brother's grasp, to escape seemed to make him edgy and out of control.  It was a constant push and pull within him, the need to have his brother close and push him away, the need to gain his approval and yet to do things his brother hated.  It was harsh and confusing and the back and forth sat on the brothers; a thin line they walked where the curtain glowed bright and warm on one side and left the other dark and full of secrets.  Neither knew and only Dean could confess his inner darkness.  

He sat and watched as the girl helped him work his lines, helped him get into the scenes.  Her hand brushed over his in sympathy and then... darkness surrounded Sam.

"Sammy.  You about ready?"

The girl pulled her hand back quickly and there was a hungry look in his brother's eyes that Sam didn't understand.  "Dean?"

The girl held her hand up.  "Hi.  I'm Teanna."  

Dean took her hand, introduced himself, but his eyes were for Sam.  "Time to head home Sammy."

"Dean, I need to work on this."

"Yeah, and you need to sleep too.  You notice the time yet?"

Sam looked down at his watch guiltily.  "Shit.  Sorry.  Go on out, I’ll meet you at the car."

Dean gave the actress one last look before he walked out of the diner.

"Sorry about that.  He's a little ... protective sometimes."

She smiled and gave a shake of her head.  "No, it's okay.  He's right.  Besides, we got through most of it.  Trust me, you'll be fine tomorrow."  She touched his hand again and Sam looked down at it.

"I uh... Thanks."

She nodded towards the door and laughed.  "If I had a guy that looked like that I wouldn't keep him waiting Sam." She said.  He looked back at the door and Dean was waiting just outside the door where he could still see them.  "His protective act is cute.  Wish my boyfriend was half that concerned."

"Sammy!"  Dean growled as he held the door open.

Sam didn't bother to correct Teanna.  No one ever understood and it just confused people.  He didn't want to have to spend the next day making up half lies about his childhood to explain his overprotective brother and the spirit understood those feelings as well.  No one ever understood him.  Even the girl he loved.  He'd find a way though.  Through this one... he'd find a way.  They would understand.

 

They didn’t speak of it.  When they got back to the motel Sam headed straight into the shower and Dean shuffled into Sam’s bag and came out with his script.  He hadn’t mentioned the reading to Sam, but Dean kept stealing it when Sam wasn’t around, reading until Sam came back.  There was a need in the eldest brother to understand what his younger brother was doing that went beyond anything he’d experienced before, an ingrained need to explore and protect him from everything.  When the shower shut off, Dean pushed the script back in the bag and threw himself across the other bed.  

“All yours.”

Sam didn’t look up, but heat filled Dean’s eyes as he watched Sam reaching for clean clothes with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.  “Better have some hot water left.”

Sam looked up as Dean closed the door between them, something dark in his chest as he looked at the doorway.  The sound of running away came from the other room and Sam shook himself and took a deep breath.  “What the hell…” he said to himself, and the words seemed to work because he was moving again, no longer paralyzed by the tantalizing want and need that were offered on the other side of the door.  He could feel the darkness pushed down, pushed underneath all the other things that made his brother who he was.  It was pushed down until Sam no longer realized the need and want were the very things that made him push and pull at his brother, that made him want to hold him close and that forced him to push away because it wasn’t normal and it wasn’t okay and he’d never be as good or brave or strong as he deserved.  

It was an interesting twist and the ghost had no way of understanding the history, no way to glean facts from their lives, only the pull of emotion, the dark passions that let it thrive in the shadows year after year, waiting and watching.  The desire between the brothers was so strong it was pulling them both under and there was only one way to ride it out.  They could sink in it, or they could swim.  As he watched Dean come out of the bathroom, sin riding his hips like the thin towel he wrapped around himself, he could only watch and wait.  One way of the other, he would enjoy the show.

 

 

 

 

The night was long past when the eldest Winchester walked into the motel room, eyes seeking out his brother’s before anything else to ensure he was safe, that he was still there.  Sam looked up from where he was laying on the bed, script in hand.  He gave him a half smile but there was turbulence behind it, even as he tried to keep it from showing.  “Have a good time tonight?”

Dean closed the door behind him and dropped his jacket on the chair by the table.  “Wasn’t too bad.  Found a game of poker.”  He said with a smile.  

Sam’s smile brightened slightly as his jealousy toned down.  “How much?”

“$600.  I wouldn’t suggest going to a bar on the east side of town anymore though.  I’m betting when he’s sober he tells his buddies about me.”  Sam just shook his head.  “What are you still doing up?  Thought you said things were going better last night?”

“They are.  I just… I gotta get off book.”

“You gotta do what with your book?”

Sam sighed as he threw the script at his brother.  Dean caught it surely and looked down at it.  “Run lines with me.”  Dean looked down at the script like it was going to bite him but Sam shook his head.  “This is a hunt Dean and we have to take it seriously.  Maybe the ghost won’t show if I don’t?”

“Alright Sam.  Just let me get a quick shower.”

Dean went into the bathroom before Sam could answer and the ghost watched as Sam stretched; his long, lithe body aligning unconsciously to give himself better access to the bathroom door and where his brother was.  There were so many small things, the way Sam always knew where Dean was, the way he had to consciously pull away when he was angry, so many ways that Sam was connected to his brother in ways that most siblings weren’t.  In ways that a lover would be.  It was less a challenge and more a matter of opportunity and he waited patiently for that moment.  He knew it would happen soon, knew that his darkening presence was affecting Sam and the way he looked at his brother.  He knew he was opening up his eyes, even if he was good at pushing it all into another excuse.  And Sam was very good at that, at rationalizing the way his eyes memorized his brother’s body, at the panic that flooded him when he wasn’t where he should be, at the jealousy that ate away at him when his brother was flirting or off with someone else.  

When the bathroom door opened, Dean stepped out, a cloud of steam following in his wake.  Sam lowered his eyes away from Dean’s face and bare chest, but then he was watching the curve of his calves and the strength in his thighs as the towel slit to the side where Dean held it closed.  He licked his lips as he took a deep breath, looking down at his script.  

Dean pulled on a pair of boxers quickly, then threw the wet towel back into the bathroom without a backward glance.  Water still trailed down his chest and Sam’s eyes caught on it for a moment, mesmerized by it’s path.  Dean snapped his fingers in front of Sam’s eyes.  “Earth to Sammy.”  He said with a shake of his head.  “Seriously dude, I know it’s weird.”  He looked at his own chest, finding a reason for Sam to be staring as he did.  “But I doubt I’ll stay this blank for long.  The scars will catch up soon enough.”

Sam nodded.  “Yeah, I guess.  Just… it’s odd to see you without all your marks.”  Sam grabbed the script then and threw it to his brother again.  “So showers done.  Help me out.”  Dean opened it up and Sam gave a small smile.  “Page 42.”

“Wait a second Sam, you’re expecting me to-“

“Dean, come on.  I need your help.  Are you gonna do it or not?”

Dean sighed as he took a seat on the bed opposite Sam.  “Alright, but just remember you’re the real girl in this relationship.”

Sam rolled his eyes but he didn’t comment, instead he just relaxed a little, getting into character.  He only took a minute before he started.  The words came quickly enough and he was getting the nuances of the character.  Dean was holding his own, taking the rehearsal seriously even though he had teased his brother about it endlessly over the last few days.  They both knew that Sam was going to have to perform because even if the ghost came before the show’s run started, he wouldn’t leave them high and dry without a lead.  He had talked them into an understudy that would be able to take over soon, but for at least the first week he’d have to perform.  Dean had promised to help Sam to keep from making a fool of himself and he was good as his word.  He played off Sam’s character though there was more anger and violence in his ‘Michelle’ than any since the original actress.  They didn’t keep to the blocking written in the script, but moved organically through the scene, feeling each other out as they went.  

They were men who took on the part and worked it with everything they had.  If they had led another life, acting might have suited them.  As it was, it was another name and another town and just another in a long string of lies they were used to putting out.  It was like second nature, to breath in another’s headspace and he could feel it, the moment stalking them and he pressed into Sam, pressed his passion and desire into his already focused mind.   

"You just can’t keep turning away from me like that."  Sam said, coming up behind Dean who had his hands pressed into the table top, his head dropped down to hide his anger.

"Sorry!  Sorry Fabian, I have to get this paperwork sorted out, can this not wait?"  Dean’s voice was angry as he spoke, annoyance and a hint of pleading coloring the words so that Fabian would leave Michelle alone.  

"Michelle, I really need to talk to you, and I’m leaving in an hour."  

"Well, if it’s that important you should have made an appointment. I’m busy. You can just write me a letter…"  Dean started to turn, to try to walk away from Sam, Michelle trying to get away from Fabian, but then Sam was there, his hands turning Dean towards him, pulling him closer.  Dean tried to pull away but then Sam was holding him flush against his body.  One hand came up to Dean’s face, tilting it up so he could look him in the eyes.  

"I love you.”  Sam’s voice was quiet with its intensity.  He leaned in, his lips brushing Dean’s as he whispered.  “Don’t turn away from me."

The heat between them was palpable and when Sam saw the hunger in his brother’s eyes he closed what little distance there was, his lips crushing against Dean’s.  Dean broke Sam’s hold on his arms, but he didn’t try to get away, just pushed his brother back against the wall, his hands held against it as Dean plundered his mouth, moaning around Sam’s tongue as he felt his brother’s hips thrust up against his.

“Fuck!”  Dean growled as he pulled away, his forehead resting against Sam’s as he pressed his knee between Sam’s thighs.  Sam’s hand reached between them, palming his brother while he continued to thrust against him.  Dean reached up and pulled Sam’s lips back to his.  They didn’t move away from the wall and there was nothing in the room but their swallowed moans and the grinding of their cotton-clad cocks as they pushed and pulled against one another.  After long minutes of silent passion Sam threw his head back with a “DEAN!” and his thrusts stuttered against Dean, wet fabric clinging and catching between them.  Dean let his head fall to his brother’s shoulder, the whispered “Sammy” escaped his brother’s notice except for the movement of lips against skin.  

They stayed there for a few minutes, breathing in the scent of sex they’d marked one another with.  Then Dean was pushing away from the wall.  Sam’s eyes went wide as he looked at his brother, realized what he’d done.  Dean didn’t look up at him as he turned away, grabbing something out of his bag before heading into the bathroom.  When he came out, old boxers in hand, he dropped them into the bag as he dropped onto the bed.  He turned off the light and settled in before saying anything to Sam.  “Go to sleep Sam.”

“Dean… we…”

“No.  Go to sleep.”

Sam didn’t argue further.  Instead, he grabbed a pair of clean boxers and pulled them on before settling into bed.  His eyes didn’t close until early the next morning, his thoughts and a ghost, keeping him awake with painful realizations.

 

 

 

 

   
When Sam woke Dean was gone.  Calls to his cell weren’t answered, but a text came back that simply said “Research.”  Sam stopped trying to get in touch with his brother then and concentrated on getting ready for rehearsal.  He faltered a few time during the scene he’d rehearsed with Dean, not because he didn’t know the lines, but because Dean had said them differently and reacted differently and Sam had to force down the images of his brother, panting against his neck, his hands gripping his hips tightly as they thrust against one another.

It went well overall though and the director was relaxing and the rest of the cast was laughing and joking with Sam afterwards.  It was only a few days before the opening and it all seemed to be coming together well.  Sam had gotten through his night’s revelations with a different take on his brother and it was almost done.  The ghost needed things though, needed to hear the words or see them hanged before he could let them go again, needed them to see it through.  

He followed as Sam made his way back to the room, his touch still so light that neither brother had noticed it, but he fed from his love, his lust, his pain, until the banquet was almost too much to bear.  The motel room was empty still, but there were signs that the other Winchester had been back to the room; a take out container in the trash and a pile of clean laundry on Sam’s unmade bed.  

  
Sam got into the shower, letting the hot water work away the day’s stress and the ghost could feel the exhaustion running through him, the nervous tension as he waited and wondered about his brother’s reaction once they were face to face.  He could feel the darkness gathering, the dark pain and pleasure taking over as Sam reached down, his hand sliding over his wet body and stroking himself.  His pace was hard and fast, brutal as he thrust into the circle of his fingers, his seed spilling over his hand as his brother’s name spilled from his lips.

Sam watched his sin rinsed away down the drain and then stepped out of the shower, drying off quickly.  He was dressed and rereading the script before his brother came back.  He opened his mouth to say something, but Dean cut him off.

“We have a problem Sammy,” he said as he threw his jacket on the bed and walked over to the table where the extra bag was kept.  He was rummaging through it before he came out with the salt container.

Sam snorted.  “Really?”

Dean didn’t look over at him as he started to salt a circle in the middle of the room.  “I did a little more research today.  Turns out there was something that everyone was hiding,” he said, stopping to look at Sam for the first time.  “They were siblings.”

“What?”

“The guy who wrote the play was involved with the actress.  Turns out, they were half brother and sister but she’d never known who her father was.  They figure it out and she broke it off.  He wrote this for her and when she realized it, she went off and married the director while he went and killed himself.  She went mad afterwards.  They say it was the grief, that she’d loved him even if she knew it wasn’t right and that he’d killed himself because he couldn’t live without her.”

“So she’s going after everyone in the part to drive them mad…”

“Or he’s going after you for something else.”

Sam looked up, his eyes questioning but Dean was moving towards him, his hand reaching up and pulling Sam down to his lips again.  Sam was caught off guard but his hands went up to Dean’s hips, his mouth opened hungrily for him.  

It wasn’t until Dean started to pull away that the ghost realized what he was doing.  He screamed in rage, his anger taking enough form possess the body completely.  “DEAN!”

The eldest Winchester walked backwards, the salt canister thrown to the bed as he’d completed the circle with his brother inside it.  “You really think you were gonna take Sammy for a ride and get away with it?”

“What do you think she’ll do to him when I leave?”  He demanded.  “What do you think he’ll become if I go?”

“Both your bodies were burnt up this afternoon, which means there is only one thing holding you here.”  He grabbed the script from Sam’s bed and held it up.  “The thing you worked so hard to prove your love to her with and the one thing she used to publically deny you.”  He dropped it into the trash and took a set of matches out of his pocket, lighting it up and dropping it on top.    

“You have no idea what you’re doing!  He was so close to admitting it!”  The ghost screamed, Sam’s innate rage compelling his own.  “I was getting through to him!  He was going to love you Dean!”

Dean’s eyes hardened and the darkness he’d known in Dean since his first meeting seemed to sharpen and focus.  “There was nothing for you to get him to admit.”  Dean said.  “Sam was always above all this crap, always better than this.  He loved me just the way he was supposed to.  Whatever fucked up ideas you had, it’s just you and as soon as this baby burns, you’ll be nothing more than a memory.”

The ghost howled because there was so much more to it, but there was nothing holding him on anymore and he was losing his grip on Sam’s body.  He felt the shutters running through Sam and then there was nothing.  

Sam dropped to his knees, exhausted and alone, smudging the salted circle as he fell.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Sam woke it was to a stiff neck and a bruised hip and Dean snoring softly with his head on the table across the room.  He took a deep breath and tried to figure out where the pounding headache came from.  When he sat up, Dean startled awake, his movement the only thing he needed to alert him.

“Dean?”

“You okay Sammy?”

“Yeah.  Tired.  Headache.”  He said as if that explained everything.  It didn’t, not by a long shot, but he didn’t think telling Dean the rest was going to help.  He knew he’d been possessed by the angry spirit, that it had taken resident in him as soon as he’d accepted the part but he also knew that what he’d been doing had been all his own.  He didn’t know what to think about it all.  He didn’t know what to think about Dean or what had happened between them.  Except that he wanted it, wanted more.

“Next time you decide to be bait, make sure you let someone know when it starts possessing you.”

Sam shook his head.  “And I though the mind-numbing sex might have given it away.”

He hadn’t meant to say it but with the pounding headache and the unease between them it had slipped out.  He watched Dean’s eyes harden, watched the way he closed Sam out.  “Sam.”

“Don’t Dean.  Just … I remember it all and I know what he was doing.  Let’s just chalk it up to that.”

“Fine.”

He couldn’t though, not yet.  Because while he knew his own motivation in what had happened, he didn’t understand Dean’s.  The ghost had helped Sam get past his hang ups to understand his feelings towards his brother.  But Dean?  Had he just let Sam use him to get the ghost to show?  He’d done a lot of sketchy things for a hunt in the past, and this was in no way worse than using a child as bait, but it was hard to imagine his brother allowing him to do that.  “Why did you let it happen though?”

Dean stilled.  “I’m really not gonna talk about this one Sam.”  He said, his quiet anger driving the words.

“You knew the ghost was affecting me and you let me do that anyway.”

“I knew what it was doing and I played into it.  It gave me the time to research the next day.”

Sam nodded, but it wasn’t enough.  He needed this out in the air, no matter than Dean wanted it forgotten.  “It wasn’t the ghost Dean.”  He said softly.  “It was there, yeah, but it was me too.  I… I did those things.  I … wanted that.”  He moved closer, saw the way Dean’s eyes widened in panic.  “I still want it.”

Dean shook his head.  “No Sam, you don’t.  This is just something the ghost did, trying to make you like him.  Give it a few days Sam and you’ll see.  You don’t want this.”

Sam stepped forward again, his hands reaching between them to cup Dean’s face, pulling him in until their lips met.  He licked his way into Dean’s mouth and felt the way his brother’s body melted into his while his hands came up between them and pushed him away.

“Sam.”

“I want this Dean.”

Dean looked at him and took a deep breath before he reared back and hit him.  As Sam looked up, Dean grabbed his jacket and keys and opened the door.  He took one look back before he shook his head.  “No Sam, you don’t.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

None of his phone calls were answered.  For three days there was nothing.  Opening night came and while Sam still hadn’t heard from his brother there was an opened bottle of Jack delivered to him with no card, just two black ribbons tied around the neck of it. Two shots taken because it was just the two of them.  Sam smiled slightly and opened it up, downing two shots himself.  Dean had started the tradition when he’d been on a hunt with their father for Sam’s first real role in a high school play.  He’d been there the next night, but opening night he’d been gone.  He knew there would be no phone call this time though, no comment about what to do with the bottle, or to help steady his nerves.

When the show was over, he’d come back to the dressing room and found a simple text.  “Don’t know why you were so worried princess.”  A second later another text lit up the screen.  ”You were good.”

He knew Dean was gone though, knew that even if he’d been in the audience that he’d taken off before Sam could see him.  It hurt and he turned down all the invites he’d received for opening night and took his bottle to bed with him, images of Dean congratulating him, of his brother being proud, of Dean being at his side and loving him the way he loved Dean.  It was a pipe dream though, nothing could come of it.  Dean was giving him space to get over this and even if Sam knew he wouldn’t, he knew he had to come to terms with it so he could continue on with his brother the way things used to be.  He knew what Dean thought of his feelings, what Dean thought of his love, but the more he drank and the more he thought, he began to have his own doubts.  Because while what Dean said was really what he felt, Sam realized there was something Dean hadn’t said at all.  And Dean being who he was, what was unsaid was the most important part of that conversation.

    

 

 

 

 

“The understudy is ready Dean.  Come get me.”

It was all he said on the message, but he knew his brother would come.  Nothing in the two weeks since the ghost had been taken care of, nothing but that bottle of Jack and the texts on opening night, but Sam knew he was just waiting.  

It was time though, because Sam was going crazy without his brother around.  He’d realized a lot of things in two weeks and he didn’t plan on letting Dean back away this time.  It was two hours before Dean came through the door and Dean looked at Sam warily.  “Ready to hit the road Sammy?”

Sam nodded to the pizza on the table.  “Just got here.  Might as well eat before we head out.”  Dean seemed to sense it was a trap but when Sam got up and opened the box, grabbing a piece for himself, Dean followed.

 

 

They were well into the second pizza and a six pack before Dean took a seat back on the bed and flipped the television on.  “Start in the morning?”  He asked, his earlier concern obviously gone with plenty of grease, some alcohol, and a little patience from Sam.

“Yeah, sounds good.”  He said as he settled on his own bed.  He waited until the movie was half over before he decided it was time.  “Dean…”

“Oh hell Sam.”

“We need to talk about this Dean.”

“No we really don’t.”  He said, getting out of bed.

Sam watched him as he got up, but moved with him, pushing him back into the wall.  “Just shut up and let me talk this time.”  He pushed against Dean’s shoulders as he struggled to get free.  “The thing is Dean, you told me how I felt a lot, what I couldn’t and wouldn’t want.  But there’s one thing you didn’t say.”

He pressed his body close to Dean’s and leaned forward, his lips brushing the shell of Dean’s ear.  “You said I don’t want this Dean…”  He pulled back just enough to stare at his brother’s eyes.  “but you never said you didn’t want it.”

And there it was, the flash of panic and fear that Sam had been hoping to see.  “I didn’t need a ghost to tell me how hot you were Dean, or to tell me where I belonged.  I’ve been yours my whole life, I just refused to put the words to it.  I’m not afraid of that now.  He did give me that.  You’re my brother Dean, and you’ve always looked out for me, always gave me what I wanted when you could and I want more now.  I want more than brothers.  I want what we had that night.  I want to be lovers Dean and I know you want it to.”  

He didn’t give Dean time to respond.  He leaned down and sealed their lips together.  At first Dean struggled, though never to the point that Sam knew he could.  Dean was a dirty fighter and if he really wanted to get out of that situation he could.  Sam kept him in place though and when he stopped trying to fight he simply sat there, not encouraging the kiss at all.  Sam’s hand dropped from his shoulder then, his hand trailing down Dean’s side until he could grasp his hip.  He pulled him forward a little and gave a simple roll of his hips and Dean couldn’t hide the groan as Sam swallowed it.  He continued the slowly maddening thrust until one of Dean’s hands gripped his arms and the other was pulling at the back of his neck, correcting the angle as he deepened the kiss.  

Sam moaned into his mouth and Dean pulled back, resting his forehead against Sam’s.  “Sammy…”

“Don’t Dean.”

Dean looked up and gave a slightly crooked smirk.  “Alright.  Don’t know what you have against the bed though.”

“What?”

“Was gonna suggest we take this to the bed Sam.”

“Yeah?”  He knew there was too much hope in his eyes, too much in his voice but he couldn’t help it.  He needed Dean as much as Dean needed him.  He didn’t doubt there would still be freak outs, but Dean was willing and he was going to make it work.     

“Yeah Sammy.”

He pulled them off the wall then and Dean was pulling him close, kissing him breathless as he walked Sam back to the bed.  Dean pushed him down onto it and then Sam watched as his brother crawled up his body.  He nuzzled Sam’s neck for a moment and Sam turned his head slightly to give him more access.  Dean kissed the spot and made his way up Sam’s jaw.  When their eyes met they both stopped, unable to move or look away.

“You know…”

“Yeah Dean, I do.”  Dean nodded then leaned back in to claim another kiss.  As his lips traveled over his cheek bone and to the hollow just below his ear Sam smiled.  “I love you too.”                  

        

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [](http://wenchpixie.livejournal.com/profile)[wenchpixie](http://wenchpixie.livejournal.com/) for such a great story to play with! I hope you liked it and I hope I did you justice! The lines from the script are part of the original. Check it out, seriously, a great read!


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